


Clung To You, Hoping We'd Both Drown

by muddywaters



Category: soothouse
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Cheating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, George Soot is His Own Warning, Here we go..., Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other, Pining, Relationship Problems, Sex, Sexual Humor, Slow To Update, YouTube, soothouse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-07 12:13:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18410417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muddywaters/pseuds/muddywaters
Summary: ❝ This perilously continued down the same ignoble path until George knows he's gone too far-- he's getting married, and Charlie doesn't have a single clue. ❞





	1. The One Who Gave Up

 

George should've known better than to've ordered their coffees before Wilbur had even arrived after the reaffirmation that he was going to be late. He'd already come close to finishing his own off in periodical swigs and there Wilbur's latte still sat on the opposing side of the booth where George wished his friend was, the drink untouched, and surely growing cold. On a normal afternoon, this wouldn't have played out in this fashion. Wilbur was typically the type to show up a whole fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, while George was the one to oversleep through a plentiful of alarms and their backups, only to arrive a whole fifteen minutes _late_. But, with Wilbur's excuse of tiresome automotive issues and George's nerves eating away at his patience to open up about what had been going on these past few weeks, the tables had flipped for what was quite an inconvenient, prolonged wait. George wasn't normally so impatient, but his racing mind was racking him, and there was no way he'd be at any remote ease until he got to confide in the only person he expected to listen, and hear him out in a situation that felt like it'd fallen into complete shambles.

He had done an unhealthy amount of thinking lately, thoughts that needed to be touched on but, he still failed to formulate a good solution to the hole he had dug himself. What was only supposed to be something for the group to make reoccurring jokes about, something to appeal to the amusement of the fans' had turned into something that George felt trapped within. He had sat back and watched as the once harmless notion of his friend and himself in some sort of romantic relationship with one another bloomed, and excited their viewers, saying nothing to confirm nor deny the possibility of the two being a legitimate item though, knowing to himself that he was never serious about any of the things he said. Charlie was his friend, and nothing more.  
Profiting off of the idea of their best friends being romantically involved with one another was never the plan for the group, either. They saw the interactions between Charlie and George as both unimportant, and innocuous banter between close mates. However, Wilbur had effortlessly caught on, and realized how much people seemed to like the idea; of course, resulting in testing the waters of what the pairing could do for the channel with a sparse amount of videos exploring the topic. Bringing light to things such as fanfiction and pairing members of the group together in general had seemed to strike a positive note with the fans, so naturally, the others played along, began feeding into the lark with humorous, suggestive Tweets. It had definitely -- though, perhaps inevitably -- brought Charlie and George closer. They had always had a good bond with one another but, something like this really kept that in place. When it first began, it seemed to George that this was all meant to be nothing more than a laugh; but unfortunately, not everyone happened to see it that way.

If George had known from the start that Charlie was going to fall in love with him, he never would've strung his friend along in the way that he had; unknowingly, but evidently enough for Charlie to've developed a real sense of devotion towards him. He could tell himself that what Charlie felt wasn't actually love for the sake of relieving some of his guilt, to say that it was merely a fancy that would pass in a matter of months; but deep down, he knew, this too, was a lie. Charlie was confident that he loved George, and this was something he made as clear as day. Not just by showing it but, by saying it, and it didn't settle well with the man knowing that Charlie's vocalization of those three words had been the first time he'd ever heard it from another person. George wanted his _'I love you'_ to be special, and _requited_ above anything else, but he supposed it was his own blunder to've let things carry on after being told such a thing for the first time when he, undoubtedly and unmistakably did not feel the same way- but he didn't have the heart to tell him things weren't supposed to be taken as earnestly as Charlie had made them. He didn't have the heart to crush whatever idea of a relationship Charlie had managed to conjure up, and convince himself that he was taking part in.  
In all fairness, George knew that the blame could have easily been put on him when it came down to the way he treated Charlie being a facet that had driven the younger to believe they were together. He gave him a number of reasons to read into all of the signs. He retaliated and fed into the jokes, and further down the road, he had been the one to let the jokes turn into what _he_ had written off as mere experimentation, yet what had obviously been deemed as much more sincere, and pensive to Charlie. Initially, George never planned on actually letting anything between them happen but, sometimes it's easy to not entirely understand what you want for yourself or where your boundaries stand, especially after one too many beers mixed with attention in a way he had never gotten before. 

  
So, _sure_ , George had started a fire under his own ass after making it clear that he would willingly sleep with Charlie and make it feel as natural as anything else the two did. The first time it happened, he couldn't deny that it had come with a sense of exhilaration, accompanied by a morbid curiosity to know what it would feel like and if it would by chance change the way he saw his friend. Regardless of how dodgy the bigger picture was and how little it had actually altered his feelings, it was a decent memory in his mind, despite being majorly unable to recollect most of it. Through blurry anamneses, he could remember being told that it was special to Charlie too, and that meant a lot to him. It also prevented George from stopping himself from letting it happen a second time, much less of the excitement and unknowingness present. After the third time, George stopped keeping count. Nothing about touching, or holding, or kissing Charlie truly felt right but George couldn't seem to stop himself from doing it. Lying to Charlie felt unfair but, so did depriving Charlie of the things he had obviously lacked for quite some time. Charlie brought up loneliness a lot, and George had begun to feel responsible, wanting to keep him from experiencing such a negative emotion in ways that the younger savored in. Doing all of the things that, in spite of never actually asking Charlie to make things official, would give him the idea that they were together had eventually become a part of his routine. After a while, he supposed the thought of letting go of all of that just didn't feel right. Loving Charlie had started to feel like an obligation rather than something George could do with credence, and nothing could possibly make George loathe himself more than this being an obligation he couldn't fulfill, no matter how hard he had tried. As much as he wanted to love Charlie to make things easier, he frequently questioned whether or not he ever could and the longer he thought about it, the more people that he branched out to, met and _pursued_ , the answer was becoming clearer to him.

George wasn't sure if Charlie knew he hadn't stopped dating outside of the whole 'Cheorge' ordeal. George had sprinkled in mentions of names he had come to know on his nights out but Charlie, usually wrapped underneath his arm while the two stretched out on the couch never seemed to pick up on the hints that implied other people had been catching George's eye; then again, it was always a possibility that Charlie knew, but simply didn't care, or saw his and George's relationship as one that went beyond rules, or restrictions in fear that putting such minuscule things under a monitor would cause George to lose interest in him. Undeterred by what the case was, George planned on telling him sooner or later. He deserved to know that George was interested in actually settling down in the near future, no longer wanting to be wrapped up in some fictional relationship for the view-count that had the ability to make potential partners question whether or not he was serious about them. Of course, he'd gone over multiple ways of saying such a thing countless times, knowing that being blunt with Charlie was the last option he wanted to run with. Brutal honesty wasn't something George normally shied away from. He was as frank as one could be but, Charlie was of a more sensitive nature. George not being in love with him didn't mean he wanted Charlie to feel like this was at all his fault because a characteristic of the male's was definitely assigning himself blame in which he didn't deserve.  
As much as George promised himself he would be honest though, it felt like the words never came out. The first time he'd brought a girl home after Charlie having the idea that they were together, George went without telling him. The first time George slept with another person since Charlie, he didn't tell him. This perilously continued down the same ignoble path until George knows he's gone too far-- He's getting married, and Charlie doesn't have a single clue.

 

  
George's attention is rapidly diverting from the door, to the windows looking outside, down to his phone facing upwards on the table; to his dismay, no messages from Wilbur that would've alerted George he was close. Restlessly, George's fingers tap a pattern against the table, almost in sync with his leg bouncing nervously under the structure. Alike the impatience, fear isn't an emotion George is used to feeling burdened by, and now that he's practically _drowning_ in it all at once, he's so overwhelmed that he hardly even knows what to do with himself. The coffee that he had successfully chugged doesn't seem to be doing him any favors either, instead a harrowing discomfort on his already upset, empty stomach. He's tempted to order another to keep himself occupied and give himself something, even such a mundane task to do but the excessive caffeine is sure to do more damage on how frenzied his mind is, and he's at least self-aware enough to acknowledge that.  
Tens of hundreds of minutes go by, or at least it feels that way to George. He's unbelievably tired of perking his head up anytime he hears the bell on the entrance door ring, only to find that it's not some lanky, beanie-wearing brunette stumbling in with an abundance of apologies for being well over fourty-five minutes late now. After what's probably the twentieth person to make their way through that door and implement more disappointment into George, he finally slips out of the booth, finding his way out of the café in a hasty saunter after tossing a few crumpled bills from his pocket onto the table in place of where his phone and keys had laid.

  
Walking out and feeling droplets of rain coating his arms is nothing wildly new. It feels like all it ever does in London anymore is rain, but still, he finds it somewhat coincidental that the weather is bad on a day like today. Fitting, perhaps. George stuffed his phone into his back pocket while his eyes quickly scan the parking venue to identify his own vehicle. Not long after making his way over with his head down and his eyes lowered, George is stretching back against his seat with a long, heavy breath. Every part of him wants to go back home, and to hold off on speaking to Wilbur about the situation for another day or two. Maybe a week, or preferably, to never tell him at all but the rational part of George knows he can't have a wedding behind his friend's back. Behind all of their backs, really, but this time it felt exclusive to Charlie and Wilbur. He was almost positive that the absolute worst way to start off his new life with someone was to have to tell them that he cant even be open about what's supposed to be the happiest day of their lives, all because he has to preserve some relationship that never existed in the first place. For him, at least.  
  

The more George thinks about getting married, the more it scares him. That same, tiny bit of rationality inside of the man knows that he's rushing into something that should've been prolonged for a few more months at the very minimum, but it felt like George had lost control over every remaining aspect of his life. His jobs, his friendships, his family, and now the ordeal with Charlie left him feeling confined every single day, and as selfish as it may have been, George felt like he had gained back some of that lost control when he decided to fling himself into an engagement. A witless route, certainly, but he couldn't take back that impulse decision to lower himself onto one knee after spending thousands of dollars on a ring for a girl he hardly even knew. Well, turning back _was_ an option but, that meant giving yet another person he cared about a reason to end up hating him. Losing Charlie's trust was sure to afflict him enough on it's own. 

Even thinking about Charlie suddenly despising him hurt, and that was very much at the forefront of his mind as he leans forward, arms crossing to rest atop of the steering wheel, burying his head against them and muttering a soft swear under his breath. He wasn't going to blame him for his change of heart towards George, and if anything, George would respect it. George would even encourage it because after all of the mud he'd dragged Charlie through, unintentionally getting him to fall in love only to call things off this way, he deserved to have Charlie's aversion towards him. It was inevitable, and he knew it. Charlie deserved the entire world, and he feared that because of what he'd selfishly done to him, this was something Charlie would never realize. He _did_ want him to be happy, and he _did_ want the other young male to find love.. but it couldn't be with _him_.

  
George probably would've continued overthinking to the point of making himself sick if it hadn't been for the soft sequence of knocks against the passenger side window causing him to shoot up abruptly, purely a reflex to the unexpected noise. He's prepared to curse out the disturber up until realizing it was-- now an hour late-- Will. George breathes out another exhale of relief for a number of reasons before gesturing for the familiar presence to get in with him, having completely crossed off wanting to go back inside the café. It was probably warmer in there but, George wasn't exactly in the best state of mind to be around unwarranted groups of noisy people. People who were actually going through their day, laughing and chatting away with other friendly strangers as if they weren't dealing with problems of their own. He envied that right now.

 

"You could've texted me and told me that you were out here, you know. I looked everywhere inside, probably made myself look a fool knocking on every stall," Wilbur's tone is still somehow lighthearted despite a bit of annoyance shining through. He gets in the vehicle, quick to close the door behind himself and squirms a bit to slip his coat off. "I _will_ apologize for being late though. You wouldn't believe how shit my car has gotten. 'Minute I tried to get it started, it-"

"No, it's.." George had foreseen the unwarranted apology, so he's a bit swift to cut him off. "It's fine. _Really_." He hadn't meant to sound rude, or snappish but, he simply hates the idea of letting this conversation drag on longer than it needs to. The longer he's left with the need to get the truth out of his system, the more difficult it's going to be, and he knows this will be twice as relevant when it comes time to break the news to Charlie.  
With Wilbur's eyes on him, he continues. "I just.. I really needed to talk to you about something. It's.. kind of serious?"

This earns a slow nod out of Wilbur. "I figured." He answered, nonchalantly. "It isn't exactly like you to demand meeting up before noon.. or even being awake before then. I assumed something was up from that, and the weirdly vague texts." Wilbur says, a bit of light teasing and straightforwardness in that response. George surmised that it probably _did_ seem a little out of character for him, and he couldn't say he even remembered what he had possibly sent to the other male in his sporadic moment of panic that morning but, he was glad it had gotten his attention, at least. It saved George the time he would've spent building up to making it clear that he was asking for help; something he not only tried to avoid doing as much as possible but, felt insanely embarrassed about. "So, what's going on?"

George's eyes avert from Wilbur, down to his own lap where he's forced to evoke a decent way of going about this. How does one announce that they've made such a life-altering decision that they're not only the least bit confident in but, will subsequently ruin one of their best friend's lives?  
"Well.." He begins, hands sliding down the wheel and falling to fold in his lap. "It's about Charlie."

  
"Charlie?" Wilbur seems to perk up before George's sentence even had time to settle. He's immediately cocking a brow and there's a smile transcribing its way to his lips that George just feels so guilty to see. He knows the minute he comes out with the real reason for bringing Wilbur here, it'll be replaced with something much more grim, and displeased. " _Oh, Charles_." He repeats, a tiny chuckle punctuating his words. Already, George knows that Wilbur has the wrong idea, and by continuing, this is only confirmed to him. "He's coming over to help me with some editing later.. funnily enough, huh? I'll keep my mouth shut about whatever it is though." He reassures before raising his other brow. "Why, is it something big? Have you gotten him something?"

  
George's brows knit together softly, already cringing internally at how much harder Wilbur's obliviousness made this. "No, not.. not particularly." He says back, quietly. George runs a hand up and through his own hair. "What time is he coming? Am I keeping you?" He diverts from the matter at hand, habitually.   
Wilbur shakes his head though. "No. Not at all. Probably like, seven-ish, or something. With how shit his schedule is, I'd figure he isn't even awake yet." Wilbur laughs softly. "You're more than welcome to swing by with him, though. It's not like he'd care to have you around. I mean, obviously, right?"

 

As much as it shouldn't, Wilbur's implication frustrates George, and he once again feels backed into an impossible corner. The mindless but blatantly unforgivable _'obviously'_ said everything George needed to know about whether or not Wilbur was on the same page as him about how he perceived his relationship. Granted, he'd never opened up to Wilbur about his true feelings-- and the lack thereof--  before so, he, much like Charlie, had every reason to believe George was just as in love as the other lad was. He shifts in his seat some, watching as a group he had seen briefly inside cross the parking lot and head towards their own car. He needed to keep his attention grounded on _something_ , long enough to coerce himself to say it. It hurt like Hell, it was only building up, with an irritable tension knotting in both his throat and stomach.   
"Right." George mutters back, fixation following that same vehicle until it was no longer in sight, and bringing his eyes back to Wilbur felt necessary. "I have plans tonight." He then adds, a bit more firmly than before. He's faced with Wilbur opening his mouth and tilting his head a little, presumably to inquire about what these supposed and, truthfully fictitious, plans were but, George interrupts him for the second time; now, by clearing his throat intentionally louder.

  
"When you see him," George finds it impossible to look at the other man now, his noticeably disconnected lazuli eyes dropping to his fidgety, interlocked hands resting on his jeans. Every part of him is nagging at himself to get it out, to say what he'd been stifling back for weeks now and he knows that he's finally going to. It's hard to imagine the reaction that he's going to get out of Wilbur, be it disappointment, confusion, sadness or quite understandably, an enormous mixture of all three; but regardless of the response, he knows he's doing the right thing. That's all that matters, right? "There's something I really, _really_ need you to tell him."


	2. Spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ❝ 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩. ❞

As the words of avowal left George's lips, Wilbur found himself unable to speak or wrap his head around how pressing the matter at hand truly was. The entirety of his car ride home had gone close to the same way, with Wilbur's mind absolutely pervaded by what George had told him. The confession was shocking as much as it was something Wilbur couldn't help but feel like he should've seen coming, with how George's past relationships always tended to end. He was disappointed, left feeling like he hardly knew George at all. If he'd been able to keep a secret as weighty as this one, there was no telling what else both he and Charlie were likely to be kept hidden from, and for how long.  
He'd watched for months, there to witness every step and milestone the two shared in their relationship. He, along with the others, had quite literally watched them fall in love, making it twice as hard to be told that half of what he had seen wasn't even the truth. It was unsettling.

  
Of course, Wilbur wasn't going to tell Charlie either. How could he? He had every right to believe that George was absolutely out of his mind if he thought to pin the harrowing responsibility off on his cousin as opposed to getting it over with himself was anything short of fair to Charlie. Granted, it was unlikely that Charlie would acknowledge this to be as true as Wilbur did. He'd never been the most skilled at understanding what was best for him, but the situation standing alone was already worlds beyond fucked up and Will couldn't _imagine_ how drastically things would continue to spiral if they were handled the way George seemed to deem fit. To give him credit where it was due, Wilbur knew that the other male was smart enough to acknowledge no part of this was without error; he was just scared. When George had opened up to Wilbur, he'd made it abundantly clear that he still cared for Charlie, and wanted to conserve his feelings at all costs. Having Wilbur come forward with such bad news would, admittedly, make things easier for him at first glance- but would only destroy the trust that Charlie had built up for George in the long run. He didn't want to see such a falling out between two of his closest friends, fearing that its outcome would lead to much more than a single friendship coming to an end.

  
Wilbur knows with more general regard that this breakup and how it's approached is none of his business, and he doesn't even want it to be. Who would? He doesn't want to get so wrapped up in it that it becomes his top priority when it should be _George's_ , and permeate every corner of his mind when he has so many other things he should be devoting his time to. He has his music to focus on, the channel, and _his_ relationships with other people, all things that needed to come first; but he can't refrain from worrying about how this will end up affecting Charlie. He knows that his friend is already victim to being a rather sensitive person but, that wasn't enough to base any further predictions on. It could go more than just two ways, so much more than a simple ' _good or bad_ ' outcome- and Wilbur had the strongest of hunches that many of the potential outcomes would be the furthest thing from good. Charlie could have an absolute meltdown, he could cut his ties with George forever and never want to associate with him again, and here Wilbur would be, caught in the middle of all of it with no solution in mind as to what could be done to fix this.  
He found himself wondering if there _was_ even a solution at all, considering how unfair the situation seemed to be on both parties' ends. On the one hand, it was impossible for George to force what he was incapable of feeling. It had been a mistake on his behalf to claim to feel such a way, to begin with, but his intentions weren't as malicious as they may've seemed. Quite the opposite actually, with him going above and beyond to keep Charlie as happy as he could. Doing so had only backfired, ridding George of almost all of the happiness he needed to feel for himself and not at all because Charlie had been the type to drain others of their joy. If anything, he radiated such positivity and lovability. The reason for George's unhappiness lied in how ingenuine all of his words and his actions were. He was drowning in malaise each time he took Charlie's hand into his own and held it as though he hadn't desired to intertwine his fingers with someone else's, or all of the times he told him with feigned credence that Charlie was the only person he would ever love like this. These were such despondent lies.

  
Charlie, on the other hand, felt enough love for the both of them to seemingly make up for the absence of George's feelings. He loved George so much that at times, it began to _scare_ him, and beckon the question of whether or not it was healthy for him to need someone so much. He reflected on this a lot, but always shut those unwarranted thoughts of being too codependent down when he kissed George and it felt like magic. More and more, he was beginning to understand why people claimed to do crazy things for the sake of love. Why, and how many were able to blind themselves in the same way he must've been doing to've gone without seeing the, albeit few, very real red flags.  
In his defense though, George was a scarily convincing lover and these admonitions were seen as few and far inbetween, especially for someone like Charlie who already failed to pick up on many cues that others indefinitely would've beat him to. When he and George argued or George didn't respond particularly well towards something he did, he told himself that it was just a bad day, nothing he had done wrong and by no means a major obstacle for their relationship. It didn't mean that George didn't love him because the idea of that even being a _possibility_ didn't make sense to Charlie. Of course the man he went to bed with every single night and kissed until he fell asleep loved him. George was one of the few things in his life that he could say he actually was certain about; a close second being the idea of marriage.  
It was almost insane, how much his stance on such a thing had changed since he and George had started taking things more seriously. While never opposed to the idea of committing to someone for the rest of his life, Charlie had always found it difficult to imagine himself in such an instance. It could have been easily brushed off by how young Charlie was, and how little of a priority marriage was supposed to be to someone who still hardly knew what they were doing as far as the rest of their long life ahead of them had gone; but he knew it was more so rooted in his fear of never finding someone who was right for him. The idea of meeting someone who valued and cherished him enough to allocate themselves to him entirely sounded unrealistic. He wouldn't have gone as far as to say he felt _unlovable_ yet, knew that to date him was to also require patience.

  
Charlie and George's one year anniversary was coming up, and Charlie had given what he'd thought he'd wanted out of it an avalanche of thought. Moving to the next level in their relationship just felt so right, and he was sure of it. Incontestibly, knowing whether or not George had felt the same about this was an important thing for him to know and take into consideration; but Charlie was positive it was mutual. He'd gotten that reaffirmation in the form of an accidental, staggering discovery that he'd been keeping as a secret of his own.

 

* * *

 

 

Even though Wilbur had made the conscious decision to avoid telling Charlie, it still dwelled on him and served as a cargo of guilt. When Charlie would get lost in one of his typical, lengthy rambles about whatever it was keeping his attention afloat or talking about which game he'd been staying up till late hours of the night playing, Will would get distracted and every single word would enter one ear before preemptively leaving the next, taking nothing that had been said in as he should've. It's a rude characteristic that he hates to see in other people, always scolding when he picked up on it but, can't control when it seems to burden him now.  
He'll answer Charlie's comments with brief nods, and a plentiful of 'Yeahs' and 'Oh, really?', so much so that it starts to feel as though he's entertaining a child. Not in doubt, this distant behavior seemed to go over Charlie's head the longer he continued, stretched out on the other end of Wilbur's couch. His eyes are affixed in the direction of the television that the game console is loading up on, controller in hand. Sure, he'd come over to help out with editing but, Will liked letting Charlie make himself at home. Alongside this, his humorous commentary and periodical swears when he makes a mistake, or dies in his game amuses Wilbur; who, wasn't much into gaming himself but, got quite the enjoyment out of watching Charlie play.

  
He looks content right now as he speaks, and maybe that's what hurts Wilbur the most. Knowing that Charlie was obviously in a good place with himself and that such bad news was going to tear down how far he'd come when it came to his confidence and overall satisfaction with his life. Wilbur knew George was responsible for the lot of that.  
Even when Charlie had first arrived, he seemed to be in a great mood. He had greeted Wilbur with a tight hug and a smile like he always did, apologized for being a few minutes behind schedule before welcoming himself inside with him. Despite how painful it is to see him totally unbothered and happy, it's also always going to remain a definitive sight for sore eyes, watching him in this candid, relaxed state. Wilbur's always thought Charlie looked best when he's got that shy, half-smile resting on his lips, admiring the way his eyes seemed to light up more than anyone else's when he got excited, or when he _really_ wanted to tell you something.

  
"I'm sorry." Wilbur brought himself to blurt out after he sighed and moved either one of his hands off of the sides of his laptop to run them over his face. "I'm sorry for being so... not into this conversation." He goes on to say before laughing in a gentle exhale at how that sentence could've been misconstrued. "Well, _I am_. I like talking to you, and hearing about all of this, just... I meant-"

 

Charlie cuts him off with a tiny smile of his own and shakes his head. This serves as immediate relief for Wilbur who knows this indicates Charlie understanding. "No, I get it." He says back calmly, his eyes finally tearing away from the screen to watch his friend instead. He hadn't so much doubted Wilbur listening to him as much as it'd just been clear something had him rattled. Charlie supposed now was a good time to inquire about that. "Is everything alright? I can put the game away. I guess I'm not being too big of a help, am I?" He fidgets with the controller in his hand some, only for Will to reciprocate a tiny beam of his own.

 

"Are you _ever_ any help, Charles?" The teasing remark earns a playful eye roll from Charlie, but he lets Wilbur continue, simply glad that he had gotten him to relax.  
"I'm fine. I'm just stressed, I suppose. I kind of always am." The brunette shrugs. "I've got a lot going on."

  
"Can I help?" Charlie is quick to query, but Wilbur shakes his head somewhat apprehensively.

 

"No. Well, _thank you_ ," He's sure to clarify once again. Talking to Charlie with such a huge secret at the forefront of his mind made talking to him feel like walking on eggshells, afraid that everything he said could be taken and used against him; evidently, Will was letting this stir him up more than necessary. "-but it's a bunch of... I don't know, personal stuff, really. Family matters, and all of that stuff." Wilbur fibs, drawing a hand back to his mousepad and letting his physical attention go back to his editing since looking at Charlie did him no favors right now, and he couldn't let himself forget his own demanding upload schedule. He wasn't fond of lying to Charlie about what had actually been gnawing at him but, he supposed his answer hadn't been an _entire_ lie. George was his family member, after all. His unfortunate, _dumbass_ family member that Wilbur had zero tolerance to think about right now. 

"It'll all be fine, I'm sure it'll work itself out." Another falsity, but he didn't want Charlie to start worrying. He had a tendency, much like Will, to become overly empathetic. "But, what were you talking about, mate? This time I'll listen. I promise." Wilbur chuckled dryly.

  
"Well, I wanted to bring something up while I was over."

  
Wilbur raises a brow at this. "Which is?"

  
He's a bit taken aback when he hears Charlie setting the controller down on the table, following the plastic-against-wood sound by shifting so that he was facing the other male instead, all of which felt like a silent attempt at getting Wilbur's full attention, and it works. Wilbur's eyes slowly divert up and over the screen of the computer sitting atop of his lap and he draws his legs in some to sit up. The smile growing on Charlie's lips and the antsiness he exhibited gave him a reason to think he's about to come forward with something of his own, though, something hopefully much more lighthearted. Wilbur didn't think he could handle any more substandard news.  
"You're going to think I'm crazy for this, but I know what I'm talking about. Just- hear me out, yeah?" The preface of what he's about to hear does nothing to ease Wilbur's anxieties but, for the sake of keeping things as normal as he could, he retaliated with a slow nod, soundlessly giving him the go-ahead to continue.

  
It had been a few weeks since Charlie had found the ring, but he could still remember the moment vividly. It was important to him. George had been out for a dinner with his family that, while Charlie normally would've attended as well, he had chosen to opt out on this time around. He'd already been moping around the house all day, dealing with an obnoxious sickness that he had probably picked up from Jack who was stubborn when it came to missing out on events so already, he was left feeling irritably unamused and desolated. When Charlie got bored, it wasn't atypical for him to ferret around his flat, nosing around for anything at all to keep himself occupied. Video games were always an option but, he found that it had become a quite boring hobby to indulge in if he didn't have someone around to watch, or join in- this usually being where George stepped in. For the most part, his flat was tidied, only the usual number of chip bags and worn clothes strolled about like that you'd expect of a male in his early twenties. One of the articles of clothing amidst the field of his own, though, was a jacket belonging to George.. and in a predictable turn of events, Charlie found it after a curiosity bubbled inside of him at what the light heft in the man's pocket could've been.  
Given his reaction on its own, it was clear that Charlie had no doubt in his mind this was to soon be the ring he wore after George proposed, a moment he was already contrite of picturing in his head all too often; and he was over the moon about that. It was a breathtaking sight. A nice, little compact and velvet box with a glistening stone inside. The jewel itself wasn't too bulky, or loud, but instead quite tasteful and elegant looking. Charlie was certainly not one for decking himself out in accessories but, he looked forward to wearing this for as long as he could. He'd be so giddy to show all of his friends and his family, to see the same reactions of shock and amazement in their eyes. The day couldn't possibly come soon enough, and as much as Charlie wanted to keep this as secretive as possible, Wilbur was always someone he knew he could confide in. Surely _he_ wouldn't tell George. 

  
"I.. think George is going to propose?"

  
The words are synonymous to a slap in the face for Wilbur, who fails to control his reactions when his eyes widen and he pauses everything he'd been doing. Of course, it's easy for Charlie to see this in a different light. Why wouldn't his friend be in shock over hearing something so _grand_?  
"To you?" He instantly asks without thinking.

 

Charlie's brows furrow for a moment, but he snorts softly. "To who else?"  
He then scoots closer to Wilbur's side of the couch before he can continue and extends an arm to rest a hand on the lad's knee. "Look, I know I said I was going to sound crazy but, it- it makes sense! Our one year is coming up, and I.. I found the ring."

  
" _You found the ring_?" He repeats, still afraid of all that he's being told.

  
"Accidentally! It's not like I went looking for it, which sounds bad." Charlie acknowledged, shaking his head again. "He left his jacket at my place. I was going to throw it in the wash, and I felt something in the pocket." He explained before his previously upturned lips form a gentle frown. "Should I have not looked? I didn't mean to be nosy, I just.. got excited." The younger trails off, feeling a shred of guilt rush through him at the idea that he could've made a mistake.

  
Luckily, Wilbur forces himself to get his mind out of the gutter long enough to spare his friend some reassurance by a shake of his own head; much slower, arrest visible in all of his movements. Charlie hadn't done a single thing wrong, and the last thing Wilbur wanted was for him to get such an impression. He supposed if he were in Charlie's shoes, he would've snooped too. It was a natural inclination, especially knowing how likely it would've been that Charlie was already projecting his desires into that pocket.  
"No, I mean- you didn't _mean_ to see it." Wilbur tries his best to console in the state he's in. Charlie is watching him with weary eyes now, and it's dawning on Will that perhaps he isn't reacting the way the other had hoped for. Rather than showering him in congratulations and sharing a moment of genuine merriment for this ridiculously huge milestone in his close mate's life, he's hardly responding at all, seemingly on edge more than anything. If it were _Wilbur's_ big day, he would have expected nothing less than celebration.   
Then, he begins to know how George must feel when he lies to an unsuspecting Charlie. The older forced a smile to his face and squeezed in an airy chuckle, though still very much a real result of his disbelief that this could have even been happening.

 

"That's.. That _is_ really incredible, though. _Wow_." He watches as Charlie's expression is washed over in what looks to be relief, a much more genuine grin accompanying Wilbur's own. "I guess... _You're actually getting married, Charlie_."

  
For better or for worse, all at once, Wilbur begins to regret not telling him the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long awaited, stalled and oh so boring. Just how we keep things here!  
> \- 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫
> 
> 『 Reminder that real-life individuals should be kept as far from fanfiction and potentially harmful fan content as possible. The Soots have no reason to see this, nor be involved with this. 』

**Author's Note:**

> \- 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫
> 
>  
> 
> 『 Reminder that real-life individuals should be kept as far from fanfiction and potentially harmful fan content as possible. The Soots have no reason to see this, nor be involved with this. 』


End file.
